Warmth
by Lea Benoit
Summary: HP/DM. Draco wakes up to an empty bed on Christmas morning. What on earth is Harry up to now? Christmas One-shot!


**A/N: **Merry Christmas, everyone! I'm really excited to share this short Christmas one-shot with you. It'll be the last thing I post until January, since I'll be busy with dinners and the start of the school term... and my sixteenth birthday!

**Disclaimers**: No, unfortunately I don't own Draco and Harry. Or Ginny. Or anyone in the Harry Potter Universe, because they all belong to the lovely lady J.K. Rowling.

**Warnings: **Overdose of fluff, maybe?

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><p><strong>Warmth<strong>

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><p>Draco reached out into the sheets for the familiar warmth, only to find the expanse of coldness on the other side of the bed. He cracked an eye open and pushed himself upright, surveying the room sleepily. Hearing a loud crash from the kitchen below, Draco ran a hand through his hair and smiled, shaking his head.<p>

He looked out the window at the snowfall, appreciating the warmth of the blankets before finally hauling himself out of bed. He pulled on a shirt and treaded down the stairs slowly, trying to sneak up on Harry. The presents under their tree lay neatly wrapped and Draco rolled his eyes– he must have been dying to tear them open, but Harry always insisted on opening them _together_.

Then, he caught sight of him in the kitchen trying to ice the cupcakes carefully, decorating with his beloved edible holly. His dark hair was messy as ever, falling into his eyes and covering the scar, which had long faded. Biting his lip in concentration, Harry swirled the icing slowly, muttering darkly to himself as he spilled some on the counter.

Perhaps he wouldn't admit it, but Draco loved to watch him. (Secretly, of course, Harry hated being watched.) He moved with a grace, moving to the next batch with a fresh tube. Draco hid a smile at the frilly apron he had on– it had been a gift from Ginny back in the Hogwarts years and she had eventually gotten one for Draco as well. He allowed his smile to widen at the memory, the day when she finally accepted him.

Kingsley would probably kill him, but he wanted to take Harry to France over the new year. (They were Auror partners, mostly because no one else in the department had agreed to work with him.) Narcissa demanded they visit and Draco didn't dare argue with her. He chuckled silently, thinking of the tantrum she had thrown when Lucius threatened to disown him for dating Harry– most of the wizarding world was gravely mistaken when they assumed Lucius Malfoy was the head of their household. He checked his watch, then shifted his gaze back to Harry, who was now decorating his gingerbread men.

Draco raised an eyebrow. What exactly was he planning? Harry started to hum softly, pulling out a bag of gumdrops for the eyes and buttons. His pitch was awful, Draco thought, continuing to lean against the doorframe. He breathed in the smell of baking in the house, closing his eyes and listening to the sound of Harry's voice.

Harry coughed and Draco's eyes snapped open to see his green gaze fixed on him, a questioning brow disappearing into his hair. Draco smiled gently at him, pushing himself off and stepping towards the island counter. He rested his hands on the cool marble.

"Good morning, sunshine," he said, leaning his weight forward and arching his back.

Harry rolled his eyes. "'Morning," he replied, pushing a plate of cookies toward Draco. He picked one up and held it in his mouth, looking for the kettle so he could brew tea. Draco followed him, slipping his arms around Harry's waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Harry snickered softly and Draco tightened his grip.

"Snuggle bug," Harry knocked his head against his gently, picking up his mug.

"Shut up," Draco mumbled back, lifting his arms to circle Harry's shoulders and burying his face. He smelled distinctly like cinnamon, today. "It's cold."

Harry emptied his mug and set it down, turning and wrapping his arms around Draco's waist. They stood like that for a while, listening to the carols seeping into their house from the neighbour's house. Mrs. Reynolds was rather hard of hearing, they had discovered, hearing both her shrill renditions of Celestina Warbeck and the Weird Sisters' latest albums late at night.

They had moved into this house together a year before, in Hogsmeade. After an attempt to live at Malfoy Manor (Draco's legs would give out occasionally walking through the main foyer; Harry had endless nightmares) they finally chose a simple house near Hogwarts. It was a quaint, spacious place. Harry said it reminded him of the houses in Godric's Hollow.

Harry stepped out of Draco's arms slowly and picked up his icing tube again, going to his half-complete tray.

"Are we channelling Molly's spirit?" Draco asked him.

"No, I think this is more of an Andromeda thing," Harry responded, not looking up.

"Well, you look lovely in that apron."

Harry blushed darkly. "Git."

"_Harry!_" Draco gasped, sounding scandalised. "My ego is very fragile!"

Grinning, Harry looked up at him and reached over. "Guess I'll have to pick up the pieces later," he said mischievously, swiping some cream onto Draco's nose. He finally finished his tray and set the icing down, checking carefully over his work.

He glanced up at Draco, reaching under the counter and pulling out a particularly large cupcake. It wasn't as bright as the others, but artfully decorated all the same in simple white and black. Draco picked it up, unsure. The detail in the swirls betrayed the work that had gone into it and he felt the warmth spreading in him, knowing Harry had spent _time_ on this one.

"It tastes better than it looks," Harry offered. Draco smiled at him gratefully. "Chocolate, your favourite."

"Thank you," he breathed back, trying to capture the details. Harry flushed again, but rolled his eyes and picked up one of the violently pink ones, biting into it. Draco shuddered dramatically and peeled the paper off his, nibbling it.

It was rich and moist and Draco licked his lips to make sure he had all the icing. He nodded his approval to Harry, taking another bite. Harry watched him, slightly pink. His own cupcake now sat on the counter, half eaten. He began to drum his fingers on the counter nervously and watch their family clock– most of the hands still pointed to bed, anyway. The Weasleys weren't known to be early risers anyway.

He ate the cupcake in silence, ignoring Harry's obvious discomfort. His friends were _fine,_ they would rise soon enough. Then his teeth came into contact with a solid filling and Draco grimaced at the unpleasant shock in his mouth. He peered at it, the silver– _oh, Merlin's profusely purple pants._

It was beautiful. His mouth hung open, glancing up between Harry and the ring sitting in his cupcake. Harry had gone a very interesting shade of red now, willing him to speak. Draco tried to pull words together, but it was just– _oh._

"Merry Christmas," Harry mumbled. Draco just gaped.

He pulled it out, the simple silver band. _Yours._ It was so perfectly _Harry_.

Leaning over the counter, he took Harry's face in his hands and kissed him. He poured everything into that kiss, trying to say everything he couldn't in words. He pulled back, slipping the ring on, and pressed a kiss to the side of Harry's mouth. He rested in a chair, not trusting his legs.

Draco stared at it on his finger for a while and laughed. Harry smiled back meekly and moved around the island and took his hand, admiring his handiwork. He pressed a kiss to Draco's forehead and dropped down to his knees, looking up.

"So?"

"There's icing all over it," Draco pouted, examining it. Harry groaned and dropped his head to rest on Draco's knees.

"Harry," he called gently, pulling his face up.

They searched each others' eyes, not quite daring that they had been together for three years. It hadn't been easy, chancing across each other in the changing rooms, not-so-subtle hints from their friends and general unwillingness to admit it, but here they were. And Harry was asking him–

"Marry me," Harry finally said. And Draco saw the earnest look in his eyes, nodding.

"Okay," he replied softly, threading his fingers through Harry's hair. He pressed his lips to his again, revelling in the familiarity. Draco's lips parted and Harry's tongue sought his, exploring, loving, caressing and promising to be there forever. And that was enough.

They pulled apart, slightly breathless. "I love you," Draco whispered. Harry's eyes widened in surprise and Draco coloured, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks. They hardly expressed anything in words, it was too hard. They would mess things up.

Harry threaded their fingers together. "I love you, too," he reassured him, kissing him again. Draco looked at all the baking on the table.

"The baking?"

"Yours, if you want it," Harry told him, grinning.

"Elaborate scheme, Potter," he said, rolling his eyes.

Harry paused and locked his gaze again. "Worth it," he replied, serious. Then, a smile. "Best Christmas ever."

"Back to bed?" Draco asked, slyly. They eyed the baking before Harry stood up, extending a hand. Draco chuckled and pushed himself off the chair.

"I'm not going to be able to walk after this..."

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><p>Draco woke again to the cold sheets. He groaned, pulling the blankets tight around him. Harry's voice came loudly from the hallway, excited.<p>

"He said yes, Ron! I was so worried..."

Draco smiled and went back to sleep. Harry would come back. He always did.


End file.
